


I Do

by Sandrene09



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3405983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrene09/pseuds/Sandrene09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> Anthony’s grandmother was the most superstitious woman he has ever met. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Do

**Author's Note:**

> For teamfreefuckery, who asked for an ianthony wedding fic where Anthony is freaking out about wedding superstitions. Sorry for the sheer Filipino-ness of this fic, but then again, I’m not that sorry.

Anthony’s grandmother was the most superstitious woman he has ever met.

To this day, Anthony doesn’t know why she’s so superstitious—maybe it was because of her generation’s beliefs, or maybe it was because of her Filipino upbringing—but the fact still remains that she was the most superstitious woman Anthony has ever met.

Now, as Anthony looks at the mirror before him and reaches out with a hand to smooth out invisible wrinkles in his black three-piece suit, Anthony thinks about dinners when he was still a child, when his grandmother would tell him to sit down and not start cleaning the table because the person still eating will never get married. Anthony remembers questioning her logic when the only remaining person eating was _her_ , but most of all, he remembers sitting back down and not saying a word.

He lets a rueful smile take over his face. His grandma would have liked to be here, he thinks. She would have loved Ian like a second son, would have doted on him like she had doted on Anthony.

Anthony sighs, and refuses the urge to rub his hands down his face. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, and his breaths are shorter and shorter until he finally has to force himself to sit down on the side of the bed and take a deep breath.

Ian will go through with this. He knows that. He knows that when he gets in the car and goes to the garden, Ian will be there, looking gorgeous in his suit.

His hands are clammy. His heart is thudding painfully in his chest, and Anthony is too aware of the fact that he’s alone in his pristine hotel room. Ian didn’t want him to check into a hotel the night before their wedding, but Anthony had to insist. The groom shouldn’t see the bride in her wedding dress before the wedding, and even though there were actually two grooms in suits and no bride whatsoever—something that Ian had pointed out in an attempt to get some more pre-wedding sex—Anthony still went ahead and got himself a hotel room.

Anthony stands up and paces back and forth. He wishes Ian were here, but that’s no problem. Anthony will see him soon enough. He knows it.

He looks at himself in the mirror again, and sighs. It’s entirely possible that his grandmother’s beliefs have made a home in Anthony’s head.

A knock on the door catches Anthony’s attention, and he takes a deep breath before walking towards it. It’s probably the make-up artist coming to put some powder on his face, or the photographer to take pictures of him before the wedding. Anthony wipes his clammy hands on the sides of his pants before unlocking the door and turning the doorknob.

It’s not the make-up artist. It isn’t the photographer, either. Instead, it’s Ian, a bright smile on his face. He’s in a black three-piece suit as well, and though Anthony knew Ian would be in a suit almost identical to his, nothing could have prepared him for the way the button-down shirt stretched across Ian’s chest, or the way the suit made Ian’s arms impossible to look away from. His eyes are beautifully blue, delight evident in the way he looks at Anthony, and his lips look soft and inviting. Anthony is surprised at the _want_ curling in his belly, surprised at the desire to bring Ian inside his room and take him apart, surprised at the heat engulfing him from the inside. They’ve only been apart for one night, and already, Anthony feels his arms wanting to embrace Ian, feels his body wanting to be closer to him, like metal inching closer to a magnet.

Ian grins at him and does a slow turn.

Anthony feels his mouth dry. The tailored suit fits Ian like a glove, the cut of the jacket just right at his shoulders. His ass looks _phenomenal_ in those pants, and Anthony, not for the very first time, is struck by how lucky he is to have this man as his fiancé, and later, his husband.

Anthony shakes his head in an effort to bring something else to his mind instead of thoughts about Ian’s ass and how he would very much like to touch them and do filthy things to them in the very nice, very large bed behind him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Anthony croaks, his voice cracking as he thinks about how Ian would look against the 500 thread count sheets.

Ian rolls his eyes, an easy smile on his lips as he shoulders his way past Anthony. “Why, are you expecting someone else?”

Anthony turns around and watches as Ian makes his way to the bed, sitting down without a care for his suit. “Very nice,” he says, his hands caressing the sheets. “We could probably steal this and sell it.”

Anthony smiles, closing the door behind him. He walks towards Ian and sits down beside him, his heart beating steadily. “I have something better planned for our honeymoon. We can steal that instead.”

Ian laughs, surprised. His eyes close as he does so, and when they open once again, they focus on Anthony.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Anthony asks softly, allowing the stillness of the room envelop them both. He knows the answer, of course, but he needs to hear Ian say it.

Ian, sensing the importance of Anthony’s question, gives him a soft smile. Anthony can see the excitement in his blue eyes, can feel the happiness radiating from Ian’s entire being, and he knows that Ian is barely resisting the urge to grin widely.

“Of course not,” Ian says, looking straight into Anthony’s eyes. Anthony feels his doubts melt away, and he allows himself to smile softly, allows himself to relax in Ian’s presence.

Ian has always been like this for him, he thinks. He has always known what to do whenever Anthony couldn’t voice whatever he’s feeling, has always known how to comfort Anthony like no one else does. And though Ian is like Anthony in this sense, though Ian isn’t very vocal about his emotions and Anthony doesn’t always know what to do, he knows that his presence is appreciated by Ian.

“Good,” Anthony breathes, before finally leaning in and taking Ian’s lips in his, allowing himself to taste him again after a night separate from each other. His lips _are_ soft, and Anthony takes the time to appreciate the minty flavor of his toothpaste.

When they separate, their breaths mingling as they pant, there are identical smiles on their faces. “I can’t not go through with it, I mean, can you imagine how Twitter and Tumblr will react?” Ian asks, and Anthony laughs, because _of course_ that would be what Ian would say.

Anthony reaches over and holds Ian’s hand in his, his thumb caressing over the plain silver band Anthony had given to him when he had proposed.

“You shouldn’t be so superstitious, you know,” Ian says, and Anthony sighs, waiting for the inevitable they’re-not-real speech, but to his surprise, it doesn’t come.

“Do you know why the groom shouldn’t see the bride before the wedding?” Ian asks, his voice low.

Anthony shakes his head.

“It’s because when arranged marriages were still popular back then, having time to see each other before the wedding means having time to have second thoughts about it,” Ian says. He brings one hand under Anthony’s chin, raising it to make Anthony look at him straight in the eyes. “You know what? That doesn’t affect us. It doesn’t, because I’m sure of this, and I know you are sure of this.”

Anthony closes his eyes and breathes in deep. Ian’s right. He’s being irrational about all of this. “You’re right,” he says when he opens his eyes. “You’re right.”

Ian grins, bringing Anthony’s hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. “I’m not having any second thoughts. I mean, I am marrying you for your Youtube stardom, you know?”

Anthony laughs. “But _I’m_ marrying _you_ for your Youtuber celebrity status!”

“Tough luck, man,” Ian says, shaking his head. “I’m not even verified on Instagram. You’re not getting much from marrying me.”

Anthony leans in, kissing Ian once more. He lets his teeth scrape against Ian’s lower lip before letting his tongue taste Ian’s flavor.

When they part, Anthony smiles at Ian. “Believe me, I’m getting _everything_ from marrying you.”

-.-.-.-

There are a lot of Filipino superstitions Anthony’s grandmother believed in, but the ones that she most strictly believed in were the ones that concerned weddings and funerals.

She would have loved Ian, Anthony knows. She would been so happy that Anthony found someone to be with for the remainder of his life, would have been so happy that Anthony chose to marry his best friend. Anthony imagines she wouldn’t be as happy once she realized that this means the only way to have grandchildren would be if Anthony and Ian chose to adopt or to have a surrogate, but it’s all a moot point.

But anyway.

Anthony is sure that she would have loved Ian. Anthony is also equally sure that she would have _hated_ the wedding.

Ian’s nephew dropped the ring, and Anthony could hear his grandmother telling him that they would have an unhappy marriage. Halfway through the wedding, one of the candles on Ian’s side died on its own, and Anthony could just hear his grandmother telling him in a distressed manner how Ian will die before him.

The wedding passes by in a blur. Anthony is only vaguely aware of him saying his vows, everything muted down during that moment like he’s listening while submerged in water. He remembers saying “I do” and remembers Ian looking at him and saying the words back.

He remembers their kiss. He remembers David and Joven hooting loudly in their seats, remembers parting, remembers telling Ian to be ready. He remembers kissing him once again, his mouth taking and giving in return, his hands splayed on Ian’s back as he bends him downward.

When they stand upright once again, Ian grins at him, and Anthony is once again arrested by those blue eyes. Their hands entwined, they walked down the aisle once again, laughing happily when Mari, Sohinki, and the others showered them in uncooked rice.

(Ian had been confused when Anthony told him he wanted them to be showered in uncooked rice, but had quickly understood when Anthony told him it symbolized prosperity.)

“How is it, being married to me?” Anthony whispers in Ian’s ear as they stand in place for a bit, letting their friends finish showering them with uncooked rice.

Ian shrugs, but there’s a grin on his face. “Horrible, so far. I’m being showered with food.”

Anthony laughs, and unable to resist, takes Ian’s face in his hand and kisses him deeply. He can’t have enough of this man, it seems, and he doesn’t know why he had ever doubted _this_. After a year of planning, after years of dating, after years of friendship, he doesn’t know why he had panicked over this.

This feels right.

Without warning, something crackles in the distance, and there is a torrential downpour, so very different from the romantic ones seen in the movies. Quickly, the guests run for the nearby hall where they’ll have their reception.

Anthony pays them no mind, holding Ian fast.

“Oh, don’t tell me,” Ian says, “there’s a superstition about this, too?”

Anthony smiles at him, nodding his head.

“Is it bad?” Ian asks.

Shaking his head, Anthony looks up at the gray skies. Both of them are soaked to the bone, and their suits are beyond repair, but it’s okay. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the photographer taking pictures of them, can see Ian looking at him, questioning but not walking away.

“No,” he says, when he looks at Ian again. “Rain during the wedding symbolizes prosperity.”

Ian looks at the wet uncooked rice on the ground pointedly. “This marriage better be extra prosperous.”

Anthony laughs. He takes both of Ian’s hands in his, and looks at his blue eyes. Everything is soaked around them, and they’ll probably have the flu during their honeymoon, but he doesn’t care.

“Have you ever wanted to be kissed under the rain, Mr. Hecox-Padilla?”

Ian grins, leaning in. “Of course, Mr. Padilla-Hecox.”

The rain continues fall around them as they kiss, and Anthony _knows_.

They _will_ be extra prosperous.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Smosh. I do not make money from this.


End file.
